Beginnings
by Jude Mustard
Summary: Max and Logan at his apartment after her first encounter with the Reds. My take on Max's thoughts as Logan patches her up. Maybe the start of a longer story. First season fic, set at the end of "Red".


**BEGINNINGS**

**Disclaimer: **Fox, Cameron and Eglee made them. I just like to play with them.**  
Summary: **Max and Logan at his apartment after her first encounter with the Reds. First season fic.**   
****Spoilers/Timeframe:** Set in and after_ Red_**  
****Rating:** G  
**Email:** jude_mustard@yahoo.com

**Author's note:**

This story, as usual, is a "behind the scenes" exploration. It's been processing in my head for a very long time, but it wasn't until last week that I had time to sit down and put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, as it were. It's un-betaed, so I appreciate any suggestions you may have for improvement. 

I have to say thank you, all you wonderful people out there, for being so patient with me and my slooowwww writing. It takes time, you know, so sit in front of the computer and ponder, "Which would work better in this sentence: a comma or a semicolon?" LOL. But dear **willow **(www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=123168), if she knows I've been doing exactly that for the past half an hour, will laugh and tell me to give up and post the story, and **Spyke **(gatefiction.com/spyke_raven/) will shake her head and sigh and tell me she supports me whichever I decide; **Aquila **(www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=38581) will crawl out from under her own pile of work to take my temperature, and the **other willow** will send me emails saying "Your writingness? Writing more? Writing quickly!"

I love these people. And everyone who has ever taken the trouble to leave me a review--thank you for encouraging and inspiring me :)

Enjoy! :)  
-Jude

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Max gingerly straddled a chair at the dining table and sank gratefully down onto the cushion, with her back to Logan who was waiting there with a first aid kit to tend to the abrasions on her shoulder. How had she got those, she wondered? The whole fight had gone by in a blur, and she'd found herself for the first time in her life since she was nine years old fighting to keep herself alive rather than dominating the contest. Things had changed. 

She'd taken a shower as soon as they got to Logan's place, washing off the sweat and the blood and the grime, but most of all to wash off the slime that Max felt like she was covered with after coming into contact with Bruno Anselmo. She'd scrubbed and scrubbed her skin until the hot water had run out, finally drying off and rubbing the deep heat cream she'd found in Logan's medicine cabinet into her sore muscles, before coming out and suffering herself to have her wounds tended as if she were a child. She couldn't remember feeling this sore without having had a seizure. Not since Manticore training sessions, anyway. 

She winced and withdrew as Logan dabbed at her wound with an antiseptic, tensing reflexively as she pondered the wisdom of turning her back on anyone who had the potential to cause her pain. It went against any training a soldier received. Never turn your back on anybody. Trust no one. 

Her mind did a double take then, with the sudden realisation that she did indeed trust Logan. She wondered at herself as she took a deep breath and relaxed, allowing Logan to continue his ministrations. Max Guevara with her guard down. _The perimeter defence system, _one of her old boyfriends had called it. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as a warm feeling spread through her. She almost felt proud of her accomplishment. Things *had* changed. 

The news report on the television turned to the topic of Bruno Anselmo and the events at the courthouse that afternoon. Anselmo had been the one who had shot Logan six months ago, and had come forward that morning to testify against the man who had hired him for that job. 

"Why is it that the good die young?" Logan asked, almost casually, as he and Max watched the screen. 

Max stiffened again for a split second, all the warmth fading, and forced herself to relax again before her reaction was noticed. _The good?_ Her eyes narrowed, and she was glad now that she was facing away from Logan and he couldn't see her expression.

"City and state officials are hailing Anselmo as a courageous man who paid the ultimate price in the pursuit of justice..." the newscaster went on. 

Another voice spoke in her mind, Bruno's words from that afternoon in the parking garage coming back to her. _I'm just a bad guy doing what comes naturally._

She kept it to herself. As far as Logan was concerned, the Red soldiers had been sent after Bruno, and she had only encountered them because she had been protecting the man. Even if he knew they'd been after her, at least he didn't know the part about how Bruno had sold her out, proving himself to be slime after all. To think she'd been trying to save his life. It disgusted her. But she said nothing, for Logan's sake. 

He thought Bruno had made good now after having done what he did to Logan months ago by now tattling on Mayor Steckler, who had ordered the hit on Logan in the first place. Logan finally had some closure, some feeling of vindication, of justification. He thought that Bruno had repented of his crimes, and had finally, finally brought himself to forgive him. 

If he knew of the words that had been exchanged at the garage--if he knew that Bruno had been motivated by selfishness and greed after all and not by a desire to make good... 

No. He couldn't know. He mustn't know, Max resolved.

"He got what he wanted," she said ambiguously.  
  
"Mmm. A bullet in the chest?"  
  
_Better than a bullet in the back, which is what he gave you._

"Something his kid could point to and say he did good," she said. At least that part was true. She hissed and winced again as Logan dabbed gently at a sore spot. "Ow."

"They got you good." 

No, they had _not_ got her, though they would have, had Logan not come in with guns blazing just in time to rescue her sorry ass. The screeching of his tires had been music to her ears. _The cavalry's here,_ she'd thought. Logan driving into that garage in that beat-up, dusty old Aztek had seemed as glorious a sight as any knight riding in on a white charger. 

It was interesting how she had underestimated him. She'd turned him down when he'd sought her help, resulting in the shooting that had caused his injury. She'd walked out on him that night, thinking that he was going to be a liability to her, afraid that an alliance with him would bring her to the attention of Manticore. And now it was because of her alliance with him that she was still here, neither in a cage, nor a science project, or dead. 

Max Guevara with an ally. Now *that* should be on the news.  
  
"I need to get my ass kicked once in a while," was all she said. "Just to keep me real."  
  
"These guys aren't going away, Max," he said, not even knowing how close to the truth he was. He was talking about the existence of an enemy that rivaled her strength and skill. He didn't yet know that they had been sent after her specifically. 

"Kinda pesky like that," she said lightly.  
  
"Max…"  
  
"You don't have to tell me to be afraid," she conceded, honest for the first time that night. "I'm already there." 

***

To be continued... maybe 

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End file.
